Champagne Lace
by ObsidianDraconis
Summary: "Malfoy, have you been listening?" "Yes, Granger, I have. I know this tripe already... Now take my hand." "Why?" "I'm trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand."


_**A/N- This one-shot was created for the Dramione Fanfiction Writers Facebook group, 100 Days of Summer Comp. We were provided two prompts and let loose. The second round we were provided betas who volunteered for our stories. Thanks to Brittany Hacho for being my beta and after the comp was over, for my bestie SeptimaBode for giving it another quick once over just because she wanted to. Both were amazing help.**_

 _ **Prompts- "Take my hand." "Why?" "I'm trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand." and "At least I didn't kill anyone today." "You say that like it was a difficult task."**_

 _ **Additional inspiration: the video for Speechless by Dan and Shay (seriously, it's a beautiful video)**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I own only the story idea. There be smut ahead!**_

* * *

Hermione Granger was too bloody annoyed to be nervous. She swore if one more person dabbed at their eyes and sighed in her direction she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. One would think they had never seen a woman in a wedding gown for Merlin's sake. She had to admit she was exceedingly surprised disaster had been averted, after the row she and Madam Malkin had gotten into in the middle of the older witch's shop. She would not have been able to blame the woman if she'd decided to ruin the dress just to spite Hermione and her shrewish actions.

Madam, however, was not the type to ruin her own reputation just to get back at someone thankfully, and the dress had turned out beautifully. Champagne silk with a keyhole neckline was overlaid with champagne lace that rose to encircle the nape of her neck. It kissed the rounds of her shoulders and flowed all the way to the floor to brush out behind her. Tiny beads were meticulously sewn, shrouding the lace so that every shift of Hermione's body in the sunlight streaming into the room caused the dress to sparkle. It was feminine, yet demure, and she loved it.

Her hair was heaped upon her head, twists and braids adorned with sprigs of Baby's Breath and tiny pink roses specially picked from Narcissa Malfoy's extensive gardens. Her makeup was neutral, a light dusting of blush, a touch of gold eyeshadow, and a soft pink lip. There were no further adornments other than her engagement ring and the chandelier earrings that were her grandmother's. Something old, something new, and something borrowed—if one considered the flowers borrowed.

Something blue was a little surprise for her soon to be husband later in the evening. She simply couldn't wait to see his face. Her eyes drifted shut as she imagined it. Imagined the feel of the silk sliding down her body as his lovely grey eyes took her in, setting fire to her skin. Her face heated with a blush and her eyes snapped open. Later, that would come later. Her mind drifted, wondering what Draco was up to right at that moment. She hadn't seen him since yesterday morning when they both were forced their separate ways. It was tradition after all, or so their mothers had reminded them.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was nearly at his wit's end and ready to hex someone—though he hid it well. He was nervous, his hands clammy, heart racing, and he merely wanted the ceremony finished. He hadn't seen his bride since the morning before and he was terrified she might have run away screaming due to the fact he wasn't there to ease the tensions between her and the mothers. Gods, he just wanted a moment. Just one. _'It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding_ ', they'd said. He'd suggested he could just talk to her through the door; he didn't have to actually set eyes on her. Still they denied him.

The past year had been a whirlwind of planning. He and Granger had been lucky to have even a single moment alone. He'd say probably after the fifth row about colour schemes, linens, and table placements his bride to be had finally had enough. She might have told their mums to ' _do whatever the bloody hell they wanted_ ' as long as they kept their noses and opinions out of her dress choice, as well as allowing her some say over the food. Her declaration had calmed things a bit; however, Granger had been with them for a little over twenty-four hours now and he hadn't the slightest idea what their mothers might have manipulated her into.

Perhaps they should have eloped.

Draco huffed a laugh as he straightened his bow tie for the millionth time. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, he nearly groaned aloud in frustration. Forty more minutes. He was going to go bonkers; time was moving entirely too slowly for his liking. Not even the walk on the grounds had done him any good. It had only served to show him that giving his mother free rein had allowed her to go utterly mad. The opulence of the event had to have cost his father a mint. Not that Lucius was dim enough to complain. He valued his bollocks too much.

Just then, Potter boorishly interrupted his mental whinging. "Oi, Malfoy, tell us how you proposed yeah? I'm looking for ideas. Pansy keeps hinting."

Draco shrugged, turning from the mirror, "What can I really tell you that Pansy hasn't likely done already, Potter?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his head bowed. Draco's lip twitched at the sheepish look on the other wizard's face. "Well, you see. Now don't tell her this because I like my bits where they are thanks, but I kinda tuned her out when she started waffling over it all. So, I don't really remember what she actually said."

Beside him, Blaise guffawed. Draco sneered, his churlishness overflowing momentarily. "Do contain yourself, Blaise. I doubt Potter is the only bloke in this room that tunes out his bird. I know I've done so with Granger a fair bit. When she gets going, she hardly ever shuts her gob long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Funnily enough, it's one of the reasons I love her so much. Now, Potter, to answer your question. Well, it wasn't really anything grand."

Draco's mind conjured the scene as he spoke. It was summer then too, a day much like this one. Sunny, warm, fragrant with blooms. They'd gone for a walk in Hyde Park and had just reached that fountain with the statue of Diana in the middle. Granger had been going on about the Huntress in usual Granger fashion. He'd been carrying that damnable ring around for what felt like ages, waiting for the perfect moment. He couldn't properly remember why he'd felt like that had been the right time.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Hermione, she and Draco were both telling the same story to their mates. Pansy had asked her to tell them, again, how he had proposed. Her mind had drifted back to that afternoon. She couldn't help the soft smile as she recalled it. It had been a beautiful day. They had gone for a walk in the park and had been in the Rose Gardens at Hyde. She'd been regaling him with all her knowledge on the Roman goddess, Diana, when he'd suddenly grabbed her hand.

 _Hermione snatched back her hand, her brows lowering along with the corners of her lips. "Malfoy, have you even been listening?"_

 _"Yes, Granger, I have. I know this tripe already. I know you're ridiculously knowledgeable and enjoy preening whenever you can. Now take my hand."_

 _"Why?" Hermione frowned as he pulled back, carding that hand through his fair locks while he muttered under his breath. Her own hand stretched toward him, landing on his arm, "Draco?"_

 _It wasn't often she called him by his Christian name. They'd used each other's surnames for so long they were merely ways to show their affection; it caused him to pause. Huffing, he held his hand back out to her. "I'm trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damn hand."_

She'd placed her hand in his.

"That isn't terribly romantic," Ginny mused.

Hermione turned to the younger witch and smiled. "I didn't need romantic, Gin. I knew going into the relationship that hearts and flowers aren't his forte. Don't get me wrong, he loves me and shows me he does in the most wonderfully tiny ways but when it came down to his proposal, I'd never expected it would be filled with flowers and candles and romance. His proposal meant the world to me because he did it when he did it, right in the middle of me being a snotty little know-it-all. Even when I was doing something I know drives him absolutely mad, he still wanted to marry me. That was and is all that matters."

The room filled with soft, womanly sighs once again. Hermione struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. Her fiancé would be proud of her; she hadn't hexed a single person so far today. She was, however, quite comforted when her mother stepped forward with the tulle and Chantilly lace creation they called a veil in her arms ready to be placed over Hermione's head. Glancing at the clock on the fireplace mantle, she released a relieved breath.

"Alright, dear, it's time to put on the veil."

Narcissa gestured toward an ottoman and Hermione sat, allowing them to reach her properly. The diaphanous material was spread between the two older women and gently draped over her head, covering her completely. They helped her stand and Hermione took one last look in the mirror. The veil trailed all the way down her back, covering her buttocks, and stopping just below them. She had to stop herself from telling them all about the various histories regarding veils and how they had become a tradition. Now wasn't the time.

Narcissa appeared in the mirror behind her, a smile playing about her lips as she took Hermione's hand. "It's hard for we Malfoys to express our emotions. I could blame it on the way we were raised but people change and the fact we still struggle is entirely our fault. I should have said it long before now, but...welcome to the family Hermione. You will make a wonderful Malfoy."

No words had to be spoken as Hermione squeezed the matriarch's hand. She simply smiled and together they made their way to the stairs, toward her future. She was practically giddy with excitement. A bright new adventure awaited her at the end of the aisle and she couldn't wait to get there.

* * *

"Well, Son, it's finally time. Let's go get you a wife." Draco's father clapped him on the shoulder.

"Father, I know it seems silly to ask after all this time, but why are you so equable concerning my marriage to Hermione? I expected more trouble from you of all people. Not that I'm not grateful of course, it's made everything loads easier."

Lucius paused, his back stiff for but a moment. Then his shoulders slumped and he turned to face his son. "I suppose it has to do with the war really. I was so damned positive that what I was doing was right. I was raised to believe that my blood status meant everything, as I raised you. That anyone not pure of blood like us was inferior. During the first war, that didn't change. I was bringing about a better world for my wife and infant son.

'As you grew, in a world where we needn't fear death any longer, I became complacent. No danger awaited you, you were safe. When the Dark... when Voldemort rose to power once more I was of the impression things would be over quickly and you would never have to be a part of it at all. No one knew he was back; there wouldn't be as much fighting as before and our ways would be preserved. The world would be better.

'Then I was captured and sent to Azkaban and you were...persuaded...to take my place. When I learned of it, I was terrified Draco. You were now in immense danger, especially given the very first task thrust upon you. It and many other events forced me to realize that nothing should mean more to me than your safety and happiness. I may still struggle with Miss Granger's blood status, but I hide it because she makes you happy and that is all that matters to me.

'I may not say it often enough, never actually, but I hope you know without the words that I love you. There's nothing a father could want more than his children to be healthy and happy. You'll learn that one day in the hopefully not too distant future."

Draco blinked back the tears that had formed in his eyes and smiled. "Is that your not so subtle hint that you wish to have grandchildren one day soon?"

Lucius smiled wistfully, "Yes my boy, I do believe it is. Even if they are Halfbloods. I just pray they have their mother's intelligence."

"As do I, Father, as do I."

Not another word was spoken as the duo rejoined the others and the group began their walk to the altar. Draco's thoughts flitted between what was happening in the present and what was to come in the future as they walked toward the gardens.

Narcissa's gardens were extensive, as well as impressive. A haven abundant in flowers, herbs, shrubberies, and trees. They were everything a summer wedding would require, simply ask her. While her lips claimed she wasn't one to boast, her gardens and the fastidious care she gave them were exempt from such rules, right down to the brew she'd formulated to produce the most immaculate of blooms. As he once again walked down the path, Draco couldn't help but be glad they'd told her yes to having the wedding there.

The ceremony itself was to be held at The Crossroads, a massive circular area where all the hedge paths convened. It still looked smashing. His mother had transformed all visible hedges, adding pink Camellia blossoms. Large urns of flowers were placed sporadically about, each bloom hand picked. The arbour in front of which they would speak their vows was simple. Ash wood strewed with some sort of gossamer fabric that cascaded down the side, flowers scattered across the top. Guests were already seated in the chairs facing him as he awaited his future.

Any moment now, the bridal party would be at the head of the aisle and his father would begin walking toward him with the mothers. As Draco faced the minister, he wiped his still clammy hands on the legs of his trousers, clenching them into fists to try and curb the shaking.

Blaise nudged him, their promised signal to Draco that Hermione had shown. He sighed in relief, all the nervousness dissipating with the knowledge she still wanted to marry him. He had to fight the urge to turn around. Who in Salazar's name thought it was acceptable for the groom to offer his back while the bride walk down the aisle?

Moments later, he jumped as a soft hand gripped his fist and squeezed, a silent reassurance as his mother walked behind him and took her seat. Then music began to play, from where Draco didn't know, nor did he care. He was nearly gagging with want by then: wanting to see what was happening behind him, wanting the music to end as it would indicate he could finally turn to face her, wanting her delicate hand in his as they journeyed together to their new beginning.

"Oh bugger this."

Eschewing tradition, Draco turned and his breath caught. There she was. Fuck, she looked cracking in that sparkling dress; the love in her eyes causing his heart to race and his lips to curve up in a wide smile. She smiled back. Winked at him as well, the saucy minx. His grin widened. Just behind her, he caught Pansy rolling her eyes, her dark hair standing out in stark contrast to the soft pink of the floor length, sleeveless, dress she wore. He ignored her, his focus returning to his bride and the obviously pleased man beside her.

Finally, she was there, right before him, and her hand was being placed gently in his own. If he was asked later, Draco would not have been able to tell you what her father had said because she was all he knew.

* * *

Hermione momentarily paused just beyond the Manor's back exit. The back garden had been readied for the reception to follow the ceremony and she wasn't sure if she should be reverent, or miffed. There were swans in the bloody pond for Godrick's sake. The tables were all set up: white linens, gold utensils, crystal stemware, gold vases of roses and herbs—as well as gold candelabras—as the centrepieces. It wasn't so bad she supposed. She hadn't seen the cake yet; she just hoped it wasn't horrid. She knew the food would be delicious at least; she'd helped choose the selections offered. She hadn't fancied hearing Ron or Harry whinging over it.

Ginny nudged her arm and she turned, spotting her father ambling his way toward them looking pleased. He took her arm in his and they made their way up the pathway that led to the garden's entrance. Lucius met them there and walked his wife and Hermione's mum down the hedge-bordered pathway and Hermione sucked in a deep breath. This was it; this was the moment.

She gandered about as she waited for the music to begin, indicating it was finally her turn to walk down the path. The blooms for all floral decorations were plucked from those very gardens. From the candelabras that she'd seen around the small pond, to the lovely rose bouquet she was carrying in her left hand, Narcissa had personally picked each one. Nothing short of perfection had been tolerated.

The music finally started, from where she wasn't sure, and she took another deep, steadying breath. "Don't let me fall, Dad."

"Never, my darling, never. Are you ready?"

It went unsaid but she knew he was really asking if she wanted this, if she wanted to get married. Bless him. Glancing up at the man she'd loved first, her lips curved up for what felt like the millionth time. "I have been for a while now, I think."

Nodding, he smiled, and they began their descent into the hedges. Hermione was vaguely aware of the pink blooms that surrounded her, her bridesmaids at her back. Her main focus was before her, where the guests sat at the end of the pathway and beyond them, barely in sight, the altar in front of which her bridegroom awaited. She could just make out his platinum blond locks and the back of his black tuxedo jacket. He was facing away from her and she silently cursed that tradition. The Yanks certainly didn't hold true to it. Their men faced them as they walked toward them. Why couldn't she have that?

It was as if he'd heard her thoughts. She hadn't yet reached him but there he was, turning toward her. He beamed at her, a smile so wide nearly all his pearly white teeth were visible. Her own lips widened further in return. She even dared to give him a wink, causing that grin to widen even further—something she hadn't known could be possible. She was close enough now to see the grey of his eyes; they were filled with so much love her breath caught. Her father was saying something as her hand was placed her fiancé's, but the words were lost as she saw nothing but alluring grey eyes.

Before she knew it, they were facing the minister and the wedding had commenced. Vows were spoken, each of them speaking from the heart. Pronouncements were made and he was finally lifting the veil from her face, his own inching closer and closer until finally, finally, his lips were on hers. Their first kiss as husband and wife. It didn't last nearly long enough to suit her.

They turned, their mouths wide with their joy. "May I present to you, Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy."

There was clapping and cheering, someone let out a shrill whistle as well. Then they were hand in hand walking back up the aisle but at the end of it, Draco veered left instead of right. "Where are we going, Draco? The reception is the other way."

"I need you," was all he said and the thrill of excitement raced down her spine.

In moments they were in the cool, dark interior of the Manor. Then he was leading her up a staircase and before she knew it, they were in his childhood bedroom. Dark green walls and silver tapestries greeted her. The woods were dark, the floor covered in a rug of green and gold. "I should have known."

"I was quite the proud Slytherin after all. Now, enough talking."

His lips slammed onto her own and all thought fled.

* * *

Draco knew they had guests but he didn't really give a fuck. The longer he'd stood beside her, the more need he'd felt, until it was a living, breathing entity. He had to be inside his wife, now. Fuck, his wife, gods but he loved the sound of that.

His hands went to her back, intent on the buttons there, when she broke their heated kiss. He tried to reclaim those soft lips but she leaned back even further. A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest. "Come back here, you."

She shook her head, once again avoiding his questing lips. "You can't take off the dress, Draco. We haven't the time."

He cursed, then smirked.

"Fine, I'm sure I can work around it." She whimpered when he dipped low and his hands began trailing a path up her legs, lifting the gown as they went along. "I planned on hard and fast at any rate, love."

Cupping her plentiful arse, he lifted her, stepping over the bit of fabric that fell from her head, and carried her to the bed, setting her down on the edge. She lay back, sighing as he nibbled and licked her neck. Fingers dug into his cloth covered shoulders, seeking purchase. His hand dipped between her legs and encountered something silky and wet. She jerked beneath him as he ran his finger along her silk covered seam a second time. "Draco, please."

"All in good time." He cursed the lace that kept him from baring her breasts, giving them each a nip through the fabric as he trailed kisses down her torso until his knees hit the floor and he was staring at nothing but blue. "Oh, Granger. Are these for me?"

She huffed a laugh. "Can't call me that anymore, Malfoy. I'm no longer a Granger."

"Right you are." Then he was sliding that blue silk down her legs and she fell silent.

He feasted, sliding two fingers into warm, wet heat. In and out, in and out his fingers went, his tongue flicking that little bundle of nerves, heightening her pleasure. Her fingers fisted his hair, tugging the strands. "Oh gods, yes!"

His fingers moved faster, his tongue now flat and lapping at her clitoris, her climax coming a lot quicker than he'd anticipated, her walls tightening around his digits, her ragged pants echoing through the room. She came hard, his name on her lips, and he could wait no longer. Reaching down, he found his zip and released himself as he moved back over her. With one hard thrust and a grunt, he entered her. She was tight, warm perfection. He nearly blew right then. "Fuck, this is going to be quicker than I thought."

With those final words, he pulled back and thrust deep again and again. Sweat trickled down his back and he silently wished he had taken off the blazer. Her fingers dug into it once more and he wished they were dug into his skin. He always did love it when she clawed at him, made him feel all the more like a man to drive her to such pleasures.

Over and over he exited and entered her warmth until he felt his sack begin to tighten as his release drew nearer. A hand between them found her once more and she continuously moaned ' _fuck_ ' as he rubbed small circles over and over until they were both crying out. Her dirty mouth was yet another thing he loved.

He collapsed on top of her, his arms giving out. Her own wrapped around him as she played with his hair. "Do we have to go down to the party? Can't we just stay here until it's over?"

He was quite put out as she began pushing at his shoulders. "I'm afraid not. Come on, Draco. We need to clean ourselves up. I'm sure my hair is in a shambles after that. Your mum is going to have a fit if I don't fix it. Besides, someone is bound to come looking for us soon. I would hate for one of our parents to catch us like this."

Disliking the loss of her warmth around him as his now flaccid cock slid from her, he rolled off and watched blandly as she stood and righted herself. Knowing he wouldn't win, he stood. Discovering his wand was no longer in his pocket, he searched for it quickly. Finding it on the floor by her discarded knickers, he scooped them both up. Flicking his wand at himself, he tucked his cock back into his trousers and zipped them back up. "Are you going to give me back my knickers or not?"

He looked up to find her standing a couple steps in front of him, hand out. A split decision had him smirking at her as he tucked the bit of silk into his pocket. "I don't think I will, love. I think I'll just hold onto them until later. You shan't be needing them anyway."

She rolled her eyes, emitting a tiny huff. "You're such a smarmy bastard sometimes, you know this right?"

"Absolutely," he said, eyeing her. She looked delectable and he felt his cock begin to rise once more. Shaking his head, he grabbed her hand. "Let's go, love. Before I stop caring about facing the dragons and bend you over my desk and spank your lovely arse."

A quick kiss to her palm and he opened the door and began leading her back through the house. As they walked, she told him about her hen party and all the things he'd missed yesterday. "At least I didn't kill anyone today."

He raised a brow, pausing at the back doors. "You say that like it was a difficult task."

The smile she gave him might have made a weaker man shiver. "Oh, believe me, it was. If I had to deal with one more womanly sigh or handkerchief dabbing at eye corners, I might have gone 'round the bend and started hexing people."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "Well, the day isn't over yet, love. There's still bound to be plenty more dabs and womanly sighs, as well as drunken tossers that break into ribald songs. Deep breath. The sooner we're finished, the sooner we head off into the sunset on our holiday and leave my mum to handle the cleanup."

She sighed, a dreamy look on her face. "That sounds lovely. How soon is too soon before we can go?"

"I think I can hurry things along," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he thrust open the doors and they went to face their guests and family.


End file.
